Chapter 19
Kittie
A silent truce lays itself over Dorian and me. I don’t know what to make of it, sitting on the floor across from him, with the coffee table between us.
I expect to be reeling from the discovery that someone out there, whom I’ve never met, wants to hurt me. That, along with my pockets of lost time and the failure of my escape attempt. In the end, I think my mind tries to protect itself by not processing anything.
I’m just trying to survive these perverse thoughts about Dorian. If I can make it out of here, I’m not sure I can thoroughly scrub my feelings from my system, and that terrifies me more than anything.
Dorian’s broken out the cards this morning. His face is soft when he deals them, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor across from me. Like this, it’s easier to give into my adoration for him when he’s the gentle and affectionate version of himself.
I know how to play Kings in the Corner, but Dorian only wants to play Go Fish for some reason. He doesn’t want to play an overly competitive card game with me, though I’m not sure why.
I attribute the sudden attention to Cory and Raney’s departure. I’m terrified that something might happen to Raney if she isn’t careful—after all, it’s not just her father she’s got to worry about finding her. But Dorian assures me they’d be cautious.
Plus, spending innocent quality time with him has me awash with comfort and warmth. It might be messed up, but I’m soaking up every second of bliss.
“Got any fours?” I ask him over my handful of cards.
Dorian wears a sweet smile. He only has three cards left. “Go fish.”
I take another card from the stack. No fours.
“Any Aces?”
“Nope,” I chirp.
“I think you’re cheating,” he teases as he draws another card.
I wrinkle my nose. “I have a million cards. How am I cheating?”
“If you’re so opposed to the game,” he begins and lowers his hand to the coffee table, “how about we do something else?”
Heat creeps up to my scalp and sears my face. I set my cards down before watching him slide the coffee table across the carpet, sending them scattering across the wooden top. Dorian makes enough room to lean forward and hoist me into his lap.
I want to shrivel up at my depraved thoughts. Although his body’s tension seems like restraint or hesitation, I’m too busy scolding my gutter-bound mind to pick his expression apart. That darkness I’m sometimes met with is firmly bound behind this gentle-eyed facade. In this position, I weirdly find myself longing for it.
I clear my throat, unable to meet his eyes. “What…did you have in mind, exactly?”
Arms coil around my back. I have to brace his chest to avoid rocking forward on my knees and faltering against him.
“You’ve got a wall around yourself, Kittie.”
A wall, huh? I feel my body locking up at his words. How can I possibly respond to that? Especially while I’m in his lap, my thighs rubbing against his.
Desperate to detract from whatever discussion he wants to have, I mutter, “I’m sorry.”
The apology tastes awful on my tongue. Without even knowing it, I mourn what could have been. I missed the flirtatious banter we had at the hospital, and that bitterness sits like a boulder in my stomach.
“Don’t apologize,” Dorian says, sorrow sprinkling his words. A hand creeps up the curve of my spine until he presses it to the back of my neck. “You’re not the one to blame for that.”
I can’t respond. I shift on my knees, too aware of the hand on my neck, his arm between my shoulder blades.
My mind drifts back to my escape attempts, and my face flushes. I assume he blames me for not wanting to stay here and not following his wishes.
It’s as if he can feel the sizzling heat building inside me. Dorian’s eyes flash to my mouth before returning to mine. Without hesitating, he orders, “Kiss me, kitten.”
A torrent of butterflies fills my stomach. I haven’t kissed him of my own desire since the night we first slept together. We’ve done far more explicit things since, and yet the idea of kissing him still makes me nervous.
I study his lax face, the glint of mischief and need in his silver eyes. We stand at the border between his personas right now, and I can’t tell which version commanded me. One version I might drag my feet with, the other I would hastily abide, in both worry of retribution and my confusing desires.
But he isn’t two different people, no matter how hard I try to separate them. And even knowing this, as devastating as it is revolutionary, I know it doesn’t dampen my growing feelings for him.
I lean forward and peck his lips.
“Very good,” he murmurs, and when I try to duck my head, he uses his leverage on my neck to hold me in place as he kisses me again. Instead of the peck I gave him, this one is much deeper.
My body warms to his lips on mine, and I melt into him. I settle onto his lap, tingles raining down the length of me like water.
Only when he pulls back do my senses—and my shame—come colliding back into me. I barely have time to say anything before he leans forward, moving me from his lap before slipping another arm beneath my knees. For the second time in two days, Dorian lifts me into a carry and takes me out of the room.
My pulse ramps up, worry and hunger swirling together to tighten my insides.
Just as he enters the hall, a knock at the front door brings him to a halt.
A muffled voice beyond the door makes us both tense. The metal mail slot on the door swings open, and my mom speaks through it.
“Dorian! It’s me. Are you home?” she calls, seeming in good spirits. “Don’t worry, I’m not selling vacuums.”
My heart leaps. My mom’s here , so close when I haven’t seen her in months. Hope has arrived on the doorstep, cutting through the sensual daze.
I open my mouth reflexively to call out to her.
Dorian’s arms tighten around me. He dips his head down to press his forehead to mine. “Shh.”
The way his darkened eyes flicker across my face lulls me into silence.
“Just a second, Dana,” he responds, sounding casual despite his heavy gaze knotting with mine. “I’ve got to put the cat away.”
“You have a cat?” she asks, on the edge of amusement.
If my heart was racing before, it now thumps painfully in my chest to hear my mom, but I dare not make a sound.
“Yes,” he replies, voice strained. “Give me a minute.”
The mailbox flap clatters shut, and he carries me further down the hall toward my bedroom. I chew my lip, squirming in his hold, wanting nothing more than to call out for my mom.
He takes me to my room and places me on the edge of the bed. With his hands on the mattress on either side of me, he stares deeply into my eyes, the steely gaze rendering me paralyzed. Now that the versions of him have collided, I realize I don’t know what he’s capable of. Is my mom in danger?
“You know you have to be quiet, don’t you, kitten?”
I nod in conceit, my heart crashing in my chest. “Yes.”
The smallest amount of tension leaves his body and the darkness that lines his face relents. “I’ll tell you everything she says once she’s gone,” he promises. “Now…be good for me.”
Relief lets me relax, if only partly. Deep down, I think I know he won’t hurt her.
Dorian doesn’t wait for my response before leaving the room and shutting the door, casting the room in darkness and illuminating the nightlights in his wake. I wait to hear the click of the deadbolt, only to be greeted by the solitary sound of his footsteps carrying him back down the hall.
Holding my breath, I jump up and rush to the door. I turn the knob slowly, as quietly as I can manage. I almost can’t believe my eyes when I push it open to reveal a crack of light in the hall. Sounds waft inside; the beeping of the alarm panel, the opening of the front door…my mom and Dorian’s voices.
She sounds happy to see him. He sounds perfectly polite.
I don’t dare open my bedroom door any further, biting back on the urge to throw it open and shout for her.
I wait with my hand on the door handle, listening. My entire body shakes from standing there for what feels like hours, but is only five or so minutes. Eventually, the front door closes, and my mom’s laughter is carried outside.
In the silence of the house, I open my door. The hallway’s empty. I assume he’s seeing my mom to her car.
I tentatively step out, craning my head to see around the underside of the staircase. The alarm panel by the door flashes red. He had to deactivate it to answer the door, and he would have no reason to arm it in front of her.
I finally have my chance.
I hurry down the hall in the opposite direction toward the sunroom. A set of glass patio doors frame the massive field in the backyard and the forest beyond. I frantically unlatch the bolt at the top and twist the handle. The frigid air hits me as I swing open the door and breathe it in. I hesitate, lingering in the open doorway, scanning the seemingly endless backyard. There isn’t a single house or other yard in sight, only lines of trees and hedges.
A heavy heart anchors me to the doorway.
I don’t have a plan, but if I try to stop my mom’s car, she’ll have questions. If I go to the police, there will be even more.
But Dorian needs help. He hasn’t hurt me, not really. It’s all in a misguided effort to protect me. I’ll have to come up with an elaborate lie to spare him. Maybe then, if I can cut myself away from him, once we’re on equal footing again, I can help him.
I wince against the memories of him standing at the edge of the road.
He’ll be angry with me, maybe even hate me, and I’m okay with that as long as he doesn’t have to suffer.
I’m so focused on the cold air drifting inside, the hollow sound of the wind across the field, the potential lies and stories I’ll have to make up…I don’t hear the footsteps creeping back through the house. Two arms seize me and yank me backward, nearly taking my breath away.
“No!” I try to shout, but my protest comes out breathlessly. “Let me go!”
Dorian hoists me into his arms, taking me back down the hallway. The disappointment of having escape dangled so closely, the fear of the fury rolling off of him—none of it compares to the strange pinch of guilt.
“Just let me go,” I plea as he carries me past my bedroom and up the steps toward his. “I want the best for you, can’t you see that? I don’t want to be the reason you get into trouble.”
But Dorian doesn’t listen to me. He looks straight ahead, marching through his bedroom doorway and kicking the door shut behind us, again casting us into darkness.
“Dorian?” I call to him, voice shaking.
“I’ve always known you hated me, Katherine,” he begins, walking me further into the room. “I accepted that with your submission. I thought you and I were on the same page. What must I do for you to understand?”
Dorian’s arms vanish, and I fall for only a millisecond before I hit the mattress.
“Please listen to me,” I beg, watching his silhouette walk to the dresser on the other side of the room. “I want to help you. If they find me along the road, you’ll have an out! If…if they find me here, then I can’t protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection,” he snaps before slamming the dresser drawer shut.
I hold my breath, listening to the weight of his footsteps until he returns. He begins to peel my clothes from me again, stealing a gasp out of me. Another punishment, I realize. I should be terrified, yet a thrill jolts through me.
My skin burns. “Please, Dorian. I know it feels like I betrayed you, but I swear, I only want what’s best for you. I—”
I’m rambling, stalling. Panic coils around me, quickening my breath while excitement sizzles my skin.
Dorian cruelly says, “Is this what I must do to you? Must I keep you tied to one spot for the rest of your days? Is that what you want me to do?”
“No, please,” I nearly whisper. I want to reach out and touch him, but refrain. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help either, Katherine. Save your breath and your lies.”
I glare up at him in a burst of momentary bravery. “I’m telling you the truth! I don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to you.”
“Enough,” he sighs, bringing fabric to my face. He wraps something around my head, over my eyes, stealing whatever limited sight I have.
As I whimper, his breath bats against my face as he leans closer. “Tell me you’re sorry.”
Something in his words warms my insides. “I’m sorry.”
“Now tell me you hate me, kitten.” Dorian’s words aren’t angry anymore. They sound like a game.
I squirm under him, terrified but also desperate to find him in the dark. I’ve become a moth near a flame, desperately wanting to burn to a crisp.
But even for his mercy, I can’t lie to him. Even if it would simplify everything, killing my adoration for him is impossible.
“No,” I try to sound defiant, but my words are shaky.
I feel a hand on my hair, lightly smoothing it. “I can make you hate me.”
My heart flutters. “Dorian—”
“Say it,” he commands, his voice hitting a stern note that leaves me trembling even harder than before.
“No.”
I can feel him looming over me. I’ve never felt more vulnerable than right now. He can do anything he likes with me, and not only will I be unable to fight him off, I don’t want to.
I’ll never be sure whether the vicious games he plays entice me because I’m broken or because he’s so deeply embedded in my soul that it’s the only way I can feel excited.
“I’ll take my time, then,” he promises me, his fingers tracing gentle lines down my face. “You’ll hate me, kitten.”
“No!” The words all but burn my throat, but I’m too tired to fight it any longer. “I love you, Dorian.”
Something brushes against my forehead. His hair tickles my face, and the warmth of his breath teasingly bats my mouth. “Now…why would you say such a cruel thing to me?”
“It’s true,” I say, desperate for him to believe it. “I belong to you.”
Dorian collects my face in one hand, pinching hard. Pain laces his voice. “You really want me to punish you, don’t you?”
I try to speak against his hold but can’t manage the words. He doesn’t believe me. My heart pounds in almost every part of my body in anticipation. He’ll punish me, but I’ll revel in every second of it, and if I’m lucky, the shame will subside for at least one blissful minute.